


Where Do We Go From Here?

by albatross1013



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Smut Fest February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29887617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albatross1013/pseuds/albatross1013
Summary: Smutfest February Challenge #9: S1 Jamie's POV - erotic dream after seeing Claire for the first time in her wet shift and after the ride to Leoch with her lovely round arse between his legs.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	Where Do We Go From Here?

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you for my kickass beta, audramh, who keeps me in the right time zone and encourages my filthy mind. 
> 
> Also, thank you to JRC10 who writes THE BEST JAMMF ever for taking a wee keek for me. 
> 
> *showers you both in kisses*

The easy swaying rhythm of his horse was making Jamie tired. They had been days upon the road. The fire in his shoulder had subsided to a dull throb that he was mostly able to ignore.

His shoulder wasn’t the only thing throbbing.

The bonny lass had appeared before him like a goddess in her wet shift, the outline of every curve of her body on display as if she were in naught but her skin. When she had bent before him to grasp his arm, he had been given a clear view down the front of her neckline; her pale breasts covered in tiny scraps of silk as they swung freely. He hoped the fire roaring in the hearth beside him covered the flames that engulfed his cheeks and ears as he averted his scandalized gaze.

Now, that same body was pressed against his, the most luscious round arse wedged in the cradle of his thighs while his arms wrapped around her slight frame. The weight of her bosom rested on his forearm and it was as close to touching a woman’s breast he had ever been since he was weaned.

God Almighty, he was tired. Slumping forward to rest his chin on her slight shoulder, Jamie’s eyes drifted shut as he nuzzled into the pillow of dark curls against his cheek. He just needed to rest his eyes for a moment…

This lass in his arms, Mistress Claire, nestled against him as intimate as any lover, was the cause of more impure thoughts than he had ever succumbed to in his life. Days in the saddle had brought his tired, aching body to the very brink of its limits.

Pain.

Desire.

Fatigue.

Lust.

Shame.

He was tired of keeping himself in check. More than anything he wanted to mold his fingers around the shape of her. To feel the silken warmth of her skin against his own while he lost himself in the heaven that was her. Inhaling the smell of her, despite the dirt, the blood and near constant drizzle, she still carried a scent that was unique to her. Turning his face until his lips grazed the shell of her ear, he breathed deep and tightened his hold around her.

To his shock, her face tipped up and back toward him. Before he could meet her gaze, her lips pressed against his own in a kiss that shook him to his very core. Warmth blossomed through him like the first bloom of heather, erupting a flood of heat clear to his frozen toes. Wrapping his hand around the curve of her jaw, he devoured her. Seeking entrance and gaining it with a groan, he reveled in the velvet heat of her mouth.

One hand anchoring her head, the other curled over her hip and slid to the center of her pelvis, pressing her back against him. He felt her hand slide along his neck to grip his hair, tugging him closer and he completely gave up any semblance of control.

A shuddering gasp escaped just as he took command of the kiss. Lips and tongue stroking, fanning flames to consume them upon the pyre of lust and passion. His hands stroked down her sides to grasp around the curve of her hips, clutching her back against his cockstand. The pressure drove a moan from him as his own hips lurched forward of their own will. Desperation filled him. His control had fled.

Rucking up fold upon fold of skirt and kilt between them until skin finally, blessedly, met skin. “Oh Dhia,” he whispered into her hair. Digging his fingertips into the tender flesh of her pelvis, his eyes fluttered closed at the sensations overcoming him as his cock nestled in the crevice of her arse. The finest silk in all of Paris couldn’t hold a candle to the bare arse of one Mistress Beauchamp. Jamie could do nothing except cling to her as the rhythmic rocking of their horse created the most delicious friction between them. Panting in her hair, muttering nonsense, it was all he could manage to stay mounted when his lust addled mind was screaming at him to roll them both to the ground for a proper ravaging.

Finally, he could take it no more. Without a word, Jamie placed a firm hand between Claire’s shoulder blades and shoved her down until she was forced to wrap her arms around the horse’s neck. Anchoring his fingers around her pelvis, he pulled her up and back, nudging his cockstand between her folds until he felt the broad head slip through and delve inside.

“Oh Christ,” he gasped. It was as hot as any kitchen fire and slick as olive oil. His entire body clenched, sending the horse below them into a lope that drove him forward until he was buried to the root. Wrapping both arms around Claire, he hauled her back up against him as they rode, the ground eating strides like a giant rocking chair, lifting and settling. Weightless for a moment before driving them back together.

Jamie felt like he was flying and falling simultaneously. His body and soul splintering apart like lightning splicing through the night sky only to come thundering back as one. He was lost. Utterly and hopelessly lost. There was nothing except Claire and he would never be the same again.

“Claire. Oh God…” Dragging his lips down her neck, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as an earthquake roared through him. Eyes clenched shut, body straining and heaving in uncontrollable spasms, Jamie gave himself over to the sensation of his body rushing to meet her own as he pumped himself into her.

The horse tripped, stumbled along its path and Jamie snapped his head up, forcing his eyes open to find them still on the road to Leoch. Nothing amiss except the sensation of rapidly cooling, sticky seed running down his leg. Mistress Beauchamp perched in front of him, her back stiff as an iron poker.

“Have a nice nap, did you?”


End file.
